


A Series of Firsts

by quibbler



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-11-08
Packaged: 2018-01-24 16:06:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1611200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quibbler/pseuds/quibbler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leo Fitz and Jemma Simmons finally admit their feelings for one another, and a series of firsts follows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. of shivers and smiles

**Author's Note:**

> I swear this was supposed to be fluffy but it got angsty because I can't sort myself through straight fluff, apparently. Set after the finale of AoS, with some serious speculation (and if anything happens to them, I'm going to be a wreck) so bear with me. Un-edited, so again, I apologise for any mistakes. Dedicated to [aredburn](http://archiveofourown.org/users/aredburn/pseuds/aredburn)!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They have stared the enemy in the face and spat at them. He is staring at their entwined hands, his eyebrows knitted together before a smile unfurls on his face.
> 
> In which Fitz and Simmons discover a new facet of each other.

They're breathless and shivering and soaked to the bone, both wrapped in towels with no spare change of clothing and sitting on Simmons' assigned bunk in their borrowed plane. There are no pictures with familiar faces, no gigantic Doctor Who posters, no diagrams of the muscular and skeletal systems--those were all lost with the Bus, but none of that matters anymore, not when they could have died, not when they could have lost each other.

Fitz has his uninjured hand resting against his knees and a look on his face that she cannot wholly identify, and she still has one hand clutching the towel around her shoulders, but her other hand finds its way out of her bundled up self and reaches for his hand, weaving her fingers between his. She is almost afraid, too shy to look up at his face but she does because she-- _they_ are brave now. They have stared the enemy in the face and spat at them. He is staring at their entwined hands, his eyebrows knitted together before a smile unfurls on his face.

If they hadn't been dying, she thinks he might not have told her how he felt, not have put to words what she thinks she knew all along, what she thinks she felt, too. Jemma feels a blush rising to her cheeks and though she could tell anyone willing to listen that blushing was just increased blood flow in the vessels near the skin, that it was an automatic reaction to a range of human emotions, she can't tell if she's blushing from embarrassment or nerves or, heaven forbid, love. She remembers telling him not to say what he was about to say, but even she couldn't stop him, not when some reckless part of his brain had been activated upon capture; she remembers crying into his uninjured shoulder even though it was a waste of oxygen; she remembers confessing her own feelings that she had hidden away so well that even she had difficulty admitting they existed.

She turns to kiss his cheek instead, not willing to speak. At the same time, he turns to say something to her and by accident, her mouth finds the corner of his, clumsy and unintentional. She pulls back too quickly, raising her hand to clap her mouth, the towel around her shoulders forgotten entirely, and he is gaping at her while she tries to avoid his eyes. "I'm sorry, Fitz, I-I didn't mean to--"

"If you wanted to kiss me, you should have at least gotten my attention," he jokes, a bit lamely, and she can feel her cheeks burning crimson. They let go of each other's hands, and he begins to wring his with a little too much enthusiasm. "That is, if you want to kiss me. I don't want to assume anything and I would never do anything without your permission--"

She leans in to kiss him just to shut him up.

It was supposed to be a quick, chaste kiss, really, but somehow she finds herself clutching at the towel around his shoulders (she can't reach his shirt or that would be balled in her fist instead) and it's been a long time since she's kissed anyone. Their teeth bang together slightly and she fights the bubbling bit of laughter that rises to her throat because it is overwhelmed by sadness. She almost lost her best friend, her lab partner, her soulmate, and she can't quite put that into words so instead she presses them to his lips. His cheeks are wet and she is bemused for a moment before she realises it's because she is crying, and she draws back reluctantly, wiping gently at his cheeks with the corner of her towel. "Oh, Fitz, I'm sorry... It's just--I almost--"

"--lost you," he finishes, and his gaze holds hers before wandering over her face, trying to piece it all together. He reaches his hand to her cheek, wiping away the tears leaving tracks down her skin and she gives a sobbing hiccup of a half-laugh, nodding her agreement but unable to say anything. She sees the same sadness she feels reflected in his eyes and she gives him a wavering smile before leaning in to rest her temple against his shoulder, heaving a great sigh. "I don't know what I would have done if I'd lost you, Jemma. At least I told you how I felt before it was too late."

He wraps his good arm around her shoulders and she smiles into the side of his neck, sniffling slightly. "Let's not talk about it just yet, all right? I need a break from crying. Let's just be happy that we're both alive, here, together."

"Together," he repeats, and she hears the giddy smile on his breath and feels the warmth settling into her bones. She allows herself to smile, genuinely, for the first time in days.


	2. of knocks and huffs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She momentarily considers turning back and spending a sleepless night in her own room, but she hears a sleepy _go on, Jemma_ from inside and she pushes in, peering her head around the door.
> 
> In which Fitz and Simmons learn how to breathe again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Un-edited. I haven't written anything like this in a while, so... This one is less angsty than the first and I swear I'll attempt something fluffy next.

She knocks slowly twice, followed by a set of four and a set of three in quick succession. It's a nervous habit sort of knock that she only uses with him and it echoes loudly in this new, rather empty plane corridor. She momentarily considers turning back and spending a sleepless night in her own room, but she hears a sleepy _go on, Jemma_ from inside and she pushes in, peering her head around the door.

His eyes are wide open but he sounds as tired as she feels and there are circles beneath his eyes, much like the ones she keeps seeing in the mirror. "Are you all right, Jem?" he asks, and she can't help but smile at the concern etched into his features. She nods, sighing as she closes the door behind her.

"I just can't sleep. May I?" She gestures toward his bed and he shifts toward the wall, still lying on his back, making enough room for her to join him under his covers. They do this sometimes when one can't sleep and the other feels that dull ache, shares it without explicitly stating it, and it had been happening more often since she jumped out of the Bus, but this is the first time that they're doing this after the fall, after everything.

She quickly crosses the floor and slides in beside him, throwing the comforter over her as she flips onto her side, turns toward his body and drapes an arm across his chest. He stiffens slightly and she can't help but grin knowingly at him. "Oh, Fitz, you can't tell me you've never done this with a girlfriend before. Snuggling under covers? We've done this but obviously not... you know." Despite her teasing of him, she knows she is blushing. What are they now? The only thing that had changed between them was an admission of deeper, less-than-platonic feelings, but that felt like a world of difference. They were close and knew each other as well as they knew themselves, but it was as though a dam had been broken between them and she felt her thoughts drifting toward the change since they had said something to each other.

"No, I've done this before, thank you very much," he splutters indignantly, and she can't help but giggle at his reaction. "But it's been a long time and you know I'm not the best with relationships..."

"Because you've been in love with me."

She says the words lightly but she sees the nervousness in his expression, as though she might break or disappear, as though perhaps she is an illusion, a daydream. He nods and she knows they have to talk about this one day, but for now, she lifts a finger to press against his lips and he swallows audibly. "Well, yes. And I don't want to do anything wrong, y'know, not with you."

Jemma beams despite the exhaustion riddled in her bones and muscles and she presses closer to him, her chin tilted upward so she can press a kiss to his jaw. His mouth twitches and she chuckles, looking up at him to gauge his reaction. His eyes are closed and his cheeks are red and she grins rather wolfishly. "I trust you, Leo," she murmurs, and he opens one eye tentatively, silently mouthing _yeah?_ before turning onto his side and wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her toward him. She nods, biting her lip to keep from laughing. He makes a face at her before it melts away into something that she doesn't want to name, doesn't know if she _can_ name, but she blushes all the same when he leans down to kiss her.

She sighs against his mouth, letting her hand reach up to cup his cheek. He makes a noise that doesn't sound like a protest, but she pulls back, eyes wide. "Are we--should we be doing this right now?" She lets her anxiety take hold of her and she tenses up, but there's a softness in his eyes that makes her doubt ebb away.

"Oh, to hell with what we should do," he mutters, and the next thing she knows is his lips are on hers again. She squeaks in surprise but draws closer rather than further away, her hand drifting to rest against his chest. His hand rests against the back of her neck and his teeth briefly drag across her lower lip. She jumps in surprise and he stops, his eyes squeezed shut. "Sorry," he murmurs, and she lets out a huff.

"Do that again, please."

His eyes fly open and for a moment he looks shocked, but then he smiles at her and makes sure that it wasn't an accident, that it would happen again. His teeth skim across her bottom lip and she hums appreciatively, tilting her head back. Fitz's hair tickles her chin as he bends down to kiss her neck, softly, tentatively. She makes an embarrassingly high-pitched noise and immediately dissolves into a fit of giggles that he silences with a searing kiss.

His hands are around her waist then, one splayed against her lower back and she moves her hand to the back of his neck, her fingers grasping, winding their way through his hair. He groans, the sound low and inviting and heat flares in her. They're both eager and searching and she keeps moving her head a little too much and making their teeth bump against each other, and his nose keeps nudging hers harder than he probably intends to, but neither one has the intention of stopping any time soon.

It feels like hours pass (though she admits it might've actually been an hour of full-on snogging, but she was too distracted to tell) until the two of them are breathless and drawing in deep breaths, her fingers tracing haphazard patterns on his shirt, his hands adjusting the strap of her camisole that had fallen and smoothing down her hair.

"Good night, Fitz," she whispers, smiling into his shoulder. He turns to press a kiss to her forehead and she makes a sleepy noise of appreciation.

"G'night, Jem."


	3. of chemicals and cupboards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The new lab isn't nearly as well-equipped as the one on the Bus and within the first five minutes, they're making multiple trips to the stock cupboard.
> 
> In which Fitz and Simmons find that they quite like the supply room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to make myself write fluff despite still feeling so distraught after the finale. I don't know if it worked, but here you go? Obviously not finale-compliant, so bear with me!

The new lab isn't nearly as well-equipped as the one on the Bus and within the first five minutes, they're making multiple trips to the stock cupboard. Glass bottles and jars of chemicals--methanol, n-hexane, anhydrous ferric sulfate, phenethylamine--there's so much missing that Jemma feels like heaving a great sigh of frustration, but she resolves to synthesise what she doesn't have. A tedious process, she knows, but it's better than having to file a request. SHIELD no longer exists and she doesn't want to think about why and how and the pain she associates with it, and she certainly doesn't want to consider how long it would take to get her credentials sent to a distribution company, especially after Skye has wiped everyone from the system.

Fitz makes nearly as many trips to as she does, taking gears and meters and nuts and bolts, muttering to himself about how much they had lost with the Bus, about how much of a traitorous bastard Ward was. Jemma let a small, fond smile flit across her face as she brushes his shoulder with a free hand. They had memorised each invention, thankfully, the blueprints seemingly tattooed on the back of their eyelids.

(They dream of drowning and wake up next to each other, ready to dissolve their fears into their work, as usual.)

He drops a screw and curses, kneeling on the floor to find it in the dim light without magnification goggles or a working headlight. Jemma holds back a giggle as she shrugs her shoulders. "Oh, Fitz," she sighs, joining him on her hands and knees looking for something about which she has no idea. "What is it we're looking for?"

"It's about yea big, and--oh, bollocks, I found it!" He exclaims, his explanation cut short as he lifts a hand in the air in a mockery of triumph, a glint of steel shining between his fingers. She sits back on her heels, pushing her hair from her face and she's about to speak when he leans over and presses his lips to hers. The kiss is sweet and too short for her taste and Jemma feels her face burn as he stands up, a small smile on his features.

She remains on the ground for a few moments longer before rousing herself from her brief stupor, her cheeks still flushed. They hadn't quite discussed what they were now, but they had always known what they were to each other. Fitz had simply recognised it sooner and now she is catching up, all too quickly and suddenly and her heart is beating too loudly against her ribcage. (The least scientifically accurate statement she could make, truthfully, and she wrinkles her nose because of it.) He acts as though nothing is wrong when she feels like her nerves are all firing at once. Jemma tries to reason with logic, listing biological reactions in her head as she synthesises three separate organic compounds, every reaction getting mixed up in her mind until she has to set down flasks and beakers.

"I have to retrieve yet another substance from the cupboard," she announces, turning toward her partner with a pointed glance. No one else is there and they've never felt the need to announce their intents before, not since they first met at the Academy. He looks up, his brows furrowed before understanding dawns on his features, turning his cheeks pink. He nods once, turning back to his work.

Her hands fidget at her sides as she approaches the supply room, and she only idly stares at labels, her teeth worrying her bottom lip. Her mind is elsewhere, decidedly _not_ thinking about the work she should be doing and instead daydreaming about roaming hands and lips. Jemma hears a sound behind her and turns so quickly that she thinks she might have pulled her trapezius muscle, but before she can complain, Fitz's lips are on hers and she has to swallow a sigh. "Close the door, you dolt," she whispers against his mouth, grinning as he pulls away for a second to do just that.

When his hands settle around her waist, she beams at him, as though they're the only two left in the world. He looks dazed and one hand splays tentatively against her back. "Jemma--" he whispers, and her name sounds like a prayer on his lips.

She lifts a finger to press to his mouth. "Less talking right now, Fitz," she murmurs before her mouth is on his, hot and insistent. He responds eagerly, fingers threading through her hair as she leans into him. Jemma makes a mental note that they have to be careful (on account of the chemicals in their vicinity) and quiet (on account of the fact that they're in a supply cupboard snogging like teenagers) so when Fitz's tongue traces her lower lip, it takes all her willpower not to moan aloud, instead just keening quietly in the back of her throat.

One of her hands inches beneath his sweater against his stomach, tracing up the line of his hip and he jumps--the curse dies on his lips as she grins mischievously. (She thinks it's because her fingers are cold but he tells her later that she couldn't have been more wrong, but that's a different story entirely.) Her other hand is hooked around his arm, lazily resting against his shoulder as she trails kisses against his jaw, nuzzling her nose into his cheek before pressing a kiss to his earlobe. He is all but leaning back against the thankfully sturdy shelving and she stands between his legs, but then he leans forward and kisses down the column of her neck.

Her knees go all wobbly and Fitz chuckles against her skin, turning them over with maddening efficiency and when his tongue delves into the hollow of her collarbone, she gasps so loudly that she swears someone must have heard her. She quickly turns her head, pressing her face against his hair. Jemma pulls him closer as though they might meld into one being--they might as well be, for all intents and purposes, but she is ever so glad they are two different people at this moment, with his wonderful, infuriating mouth pressed against her skin.

Jemma pulls him up for another searing kiss, languid and perhaps filled with more emotion than she cares to admit at the present time, and when his hips shift against hers, she feels him, hard, pressed against her thigh and she breaks away, giggling. "I'm--I'm sorry, Fitz," she manages, and he groans in frustration. "We've been gone long enough..."

"Bloody hell, Jemma," he mutters, and he presses his face into her neck, his cheeks burning hot against her skin. They stay like this for a few seconds before he clears his throat. "Erm, you should probably go back first." He straightens, still embarrassed, and she bites her lip to keep from laughing at his expense. "I'll stay back until--" he cuts himself off, making a strange, awkward gesture in the general direction of _down_ , and she can't help but giggle more.

"It's a biological response, Fitz, nothing to be ashamed of."

He throws his head back with a strangled noise. "Oy, go on, Jem. Get out of here before we get even more caught up in each other."

When she leaves him standing in the cupboard, reading the labels on bottles listlessly and bouncing on the balls of his feet, she can't help but grin as she attempts to smooth her hair down. Somehow, she thinks they'll both be rather distracted in the lab now.


	4. of beds and anchors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "They're all the same beds, Jemma," he reminds her, and one hand shifts to comb through her hair. She tilts her head so she can watch him, his eyes filled with wonder and adoration and tenderness and she wants to die right there because that would mean dying happy.
> 
> Biting her lip, she tilts her body slightly toward his again. "Yes, well... Your bed has _you_ in it, so that's a mighty big plus."
> 
> In which Fitz and Simmons discover how they fit together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so it's been a very long time since I've written anything smutty. Please forgive me! Unbeta-ed, as usual. The rating has been changed to reflect the addition of this chapter and future chapters, but rest assured that it's not all going to be smut.

"Your bed is nicer than mine."

Fitz scoffs without any real derision and Jemma grins, sticking out her tongue at him before she flips onto her back, staring up at his ceiling. He's lying on his side facing her and she can feel his gaze on her face but she pretends to not notice. "They're all the same beds, Jemma," he reminds her, and one hand shifts to comb through her hair. She tilts her head so she can watch him, his eyes filled with wonder and adoration and tenderness and she wants to die right there because that would mean dying happy.

Biting her lip, she tilts her body slightly toward his again. "Yes, well... Your bed has _you_ in it, so that's a mighty big plus."

It's his turn to grin. "Only some of the time, when I'm not in your bed." She arches an eyebrow at him and he colours, flustered. "Oh, no, that's--that's not what I meant, I mean... It sort of is what I meant but also not really at all--"

She giggles quietly at his rambling and shakes her head. "Hush, you," she murmurs, turning toward him and silencing him with a kiss, all of her teasing forgotten. He starts, surprise causing him to seize up, but then he gathers her into his arms, pulling her close against him, and she melts. She holds onto him like he's an anchor, the only thing keeping her grounded. He holds her like she's fragile, like she'll disippate before his eyes so she reaches a hand up to cup his cheek, presses as close to him as she can manage.

Real. They are real.

His hands roam across her back and Jemma makes an embarrassingly high pitched noise when his teeth graze her collarbone, warmth flooding through her as his tongue dips into the hollow there. He is nothing if not thorough and he remembers every one of her sensitive spots, gentle yet insistent and she tilts her head back, letting her eyes flutter shut. A moment passes where his lips aren't moving across her skin and she opens one eye, questioning, but before she can say anything, his lips find hers again.

She could be content with just kissing him for the rest of her life, she thinks sometime later, but then he nudges her shoulder and she finds herself on her back with his body flush on top of hers. She smirks against his mouth before shifting her head to one side, tilting up to run her teeth against his earlobe. "Fucking hell," he curses, and she's thankful he can't see the positively wicked look on her face. She's about to try it again when he shifts above her and his hips unwittingly rock into hers.

(The noise that subsequently spills from her lips is _filthy_ , he tells her later.)

Her mouth hangs open and Fitz's mouth is moving silently against her neck--she thinks he's cursing again but more than once she could swear he's saying her name like a prayer. She threads her fingers into his hair and rolls her hips up into his, almost shyly, and it's like setting her entire body aflame. Her nerves all fire and she only barely suppresses a shudder, but he's less fortunate.

"Jemma." He says her name like a warning. He's hard against her again but they're no longer snogging in a semi-public place and she moves one hand to cup his cheek, nudging his other with her jaw so he can see her clearly. She stares up at him, her eyes slightly closed and she nearly goes cross-eyed just watching the restraint on his face, shot through with desire and affection.

"If you have condoms, now would be a great time to fetch one."

His jaw drops and it makes her smile. "Are you sure?"

She lifts her head to press a quick, gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I've never been so sure of anything in my life," she replies earnestly, and all of the doubt in his expression vanishes. He nearly collapses over her in a rush to reach his bedside drawer. "And while we're at it, clothes off, I think." She blushes furiously as the words leave her mouth and he can only manage a nod; he nearly trips taking off his pyjamas and she's still half hiding beneath a sheet, shimmying her shorts and panties down her legs.

Jemma almost hits herself in the face three separate times tugging the old t-shirt over her head (his, she thinks, but it's been in her possession for so long that she can't remember) and when she finally gets her shoulders free, the fabric obscuring her vision, she feels a weight on the bed beside her and Fitz's hands are easing her head up so she can throw the blasted thing across the room. A giggle escapes her and she can't help but feel silly about everything, but then he smiles at her, hopeful and tentative and scared like she is and the laughter dies in her throat, replaced by adoration and desire.

Her best friend and love of her life (she will only admit this to herself for now) is naked beside her and she presses a haphazard kiss to his shoulder, overwhelmed with a surge of affection and he sighs contentedly before nudging her cheek with his. "Jem..." He pulls back to look down at her, an unspoken question reflected in his eyes.

"Yes, Fitz, yes," she says with finality, and he nods once as though he's bracing himself. She pulls him down for a kiss, one hand hooked around the back of his neck and the other skimming across his stomach as he aligns himself with her, one arm braced next to her head and the other tucked around her waist, pulling her toward him. There's a brief moment where Jemma tries to remember how long it's been for her but then he pushes in slowly and she breaks the kiss, a shuddering gasp escaping her lips, all thoughts of previous entanglements dashed. She squeezes her eyes shut for a brief moment before opening them to notice him watching her intently, holding himself unnaturally still. He usually fidgets so much and somewhere in the back of her mind she realises that he's holding back _because of her_. She bites her lip in lieu of a response and he shakily leans down to kiss the corner of her mouth.

When he starts rocking his hips into hers, she cups his cheek with one hand, pressing heated kisses to his jaw. Her focus keeps ebbing as she tries to map out every inch of his skin, to learn everything about him that she doesn't know already. Her fingers freeze against his hips when he hits a particularly sensitive spot within her and she moans into the crook of his neck, wrapping one leg around the back of his.

It feels as though time is either passing too quickly or too slowly but he's panting and she's gasping and the world is just the two of them, here and now entangled in his bed. The rhythm he set starts becoming more and more erratic, so she wraps one hand around his neck to pull him down for a kiss, searing, raw emotion channelled into one gesture. She darts her tongue out to trace his mouth and it's enough to send him over the edge, freezing over her. He turns his head, gasping against her and she nearly giggles but doesn't, just swallows hard and breathes harder.

He nearly collapses on top of her but Jemma is efficient and rolls them both on their sides with a roll of her hips before pulling herself off of him, sighing contentedly as she presses into his neck. They lie in silence for a few minutes, trying to catch the breaths that seem to have escaped them and Fitz nudges her chin with a finger, tilting her head up to look at him. He has a big, goofy grin on his face and she grins back lazily, but then he furrows his brows. "You didn't--" he pauses, looking sheepish, "--I'm sorry, Jem--"

She cuts him off with a light shove against his shoulder, shaking her head. "Don't be. We'll have plenty of time for that later." As she says it, he lightens and she buries her face into his neck again, embarrassed at her own words. "Go toss that in the bin and come back immediately, or else this bed will be too cold without you."

Needless to say, he obliges.


	5. of rivers and grins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What?" she asks, maybe completely oblivious, but then understanding dawns on her. "Stop staring, Fitz," she chides, though there's no reprimanding tone to it like they might have been a few months ago. He just shrugs, a smile blooming on his face as he turns away, but only for a moment. His gaze is on her almost immediately, and she flushes.
> 
> In which Fitz and Simmons go undercover and fail spectacularly at not being themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I writing something in Fitz's POV? WHY YES, I AM. This might never happen again because I always have one character in a pairing from whose POV I'd rather write, but who knows? This one is short and pretty much PG. Unbeta-ed, as usual.

She is a treasure and he wonders how in the hell he managed this much luck.

Fitz pretends he isn't staring at her, but how could he not? It seems like the world is brightened a little more each time she smiles. He grins maybe a bit too widely and Jemma catches his eye, furrowing her brows. "What?" she asks, maybe completely oblivious, but then understanding dawns on her. "Stop staring, Fitz," she chides, though there's no reprimanding tone to it like they might have been a few months ago. He just shrugs, a smile blooming on his face as he turns away, but only for a moment. His gaze is on her almost immediately, and she flushes.

(He notes that it's a good look on her.)

"Can you blame me?" he asks vaguely, nudging her shoulder with his. (She'll tell him later that he had such a shit-eating grin on his face and she wanted to kiss him silly so he would stop.) He's trying so hard not to break character, and to be fair, he isn't entirely sure what he is meant to be doing. They're supposedly undercover--hilarious, he thinks, as the last time they tried this, it resulted in unmitigated disaster--but everyone knows that Jemma can't lie and she isn't meant to be talking to anyone. So Coulson tells the two of them to pretend to be a couple and Fitz thinks maybe their new Director knows more than he's letting on and tries not to burn as red as he's probably getting so he doesn't give himself away, but Coulson doesn't say a word.

If they can't lie, does that make it easier to assume everything they do here is real? He shakes the thought from his mind and threads his fingers through hers, rubbing circles against the back of her hand with his thumb. He wills her not to blush, but his limited control of her reactions doesn't reach quite that far. (It isn't long before his mind starts to wander toward the reactions he can control and he has to start reciting every detail of the The Great Northern War that he remembers just to keep a potentially embarrassing event from occurring.) They're the only ones from the team on the pier, unless Triplett and Skye have followed the target here.

Jemma sighs contentedly, staring out over the river, her free hand held over her eyes to shield her from the weak sun before she leans her head against his shoulder. "I don't see why we needed to join the team on this mission," she murmurs, low enough so that only he can hear. "We're of no use just dallying here. It'd be better if we were in the new lab receiving information." She didn't mention anything about the last time they had been undercover in the field, but he could feel her anxiety thrumming in her words.

He turns his head to press his lips to her hair. "May suggested--well, _insisted_ , really--that we both needed air." There's something about the water beneath them that forms a knot in his chest and suddenly it's getting a little harder to breathe, so he squeezes Jemma's hand harder. "I don't know if air is really what we need right now."

She squeezes back and he can feel her turning toward him, but he can't seem to move, frozen on the spot. Jemma draws a breath before she leans in to kiss his cheek and his eyes fly open.

She always knew just how to get his attention.

He turns toward her and searches her face, though he isn't quite sure what he's looking for. One corner of her mouth is upturned and there's mischief in her eyes. Fitz raises an eyebrow but says nothing, only leaning in to press his lips to hers.

\-----

Fitzsimmons are kissing against the railing of the pier and for a second, Skye wants to punch the air in triumph, but taking her eyes off of their target for just a few seconds was enough for her to completely lose him. Trip is luckily more focused than she is so she follows him blindly.

"You owe me ten bucks," she half-shouts, trying to keep up with his stupidly long legs and years of training.

"Why?" he shouts back, without turning to see if she was following.

She grins. "I'll tell you later!"


	6. of permanence and questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He shrugs. "I didn't feel like it. And by that, I mean I woke up late every day this week and didn't have time to shave. Do you like it?"
> 
> She grins. "It's different, but I think I do."
> 
> He returns her grin though it's a hundred times more mischievous. She squints at him, trying to decode what he has planned but he shoves her shoulder until she's lying on her back, rubbing his unshaven jaw against her cheek. "What about now?"
> 
>  
> 
> In which Fitz and Simmons get a few days off.

The bed is large enough for at least four people to sleep comfortably, but they prefer to sleep as close to each other as possible.

Jemma has one arm tucked under her head, the other hand resting against Fitz's cheek. She furrows her brows as her fingers curl to feel the stubble beneath them. "What made you decide to stop shaving, Fitz?"

He shrugs. "I didn't feel like it. And by that, I mean I woke up late every day this week and didn't have time to shave. Do you like it?"

She grins. "It's different, but I think I do."

He returns her grin though it's a hundred times more mischievous. She squints at him, trying to decode what he has planned but he shoves her shoulder until she's lying on her back, rubbing his unshaven jaw against her cheek. "What about now?"

She shrieks with indignance. "Leopold Fitz, stop that this instant!"

Fitz laughs, the sound echoing in the mostly empty room. "Can I get a kiss as a bribe?"

She rolls her eyes but turns her head so her lips graze his ear. "I can't kiss you if you're not looking at me," she complains, taking on his usual tone of voice when he's whining. He shifts so his face hovers over hers, sticking his tongue out at her and she laughs, pulling him down for a kiss.

He smiles against her mouth, one hand splayed against her hip, and when his fingers tighten, she moans quietly into the kiss. He starts trailing kisses down to her jaw, his hands mapping her skin and her eyes flutter shut when one brushes against the crease between her hip and leg.

She should really expect this chain of events, especially now that they get quite a bit of time off, but when he is kissing up the inside of her thigh, she still gasps and clutches at the sheets beneath her. She feels him smiling against her skin and she sort of wants to smack him for it, but that isn't going to help him along to where she'd like him to be.

Instead, she threads one hand through his hair and tugs harder than she intends to but he takes direction very well and presses a kiss just above her center. "Fiiiiiitz." She draws his name out in a plea and she thinks he's probably grinning, but her eyes are half-shut and she doesn't need to distract him anymore.

He presses his tongue against her and she lets out a shaky breath.

Really, she should praise his mouth and hands more. The good far outweighs the bad, she thinks idly before he curls two fingers into her, sucking gently at her clit and all rational thought escapes her mind.

Her back is arched off of the mattress and one hand pushes at the back of his head, the other scratching at the sheets as Fitz slowly unravels her, tongue and fingers everywhere at once and Jemma thinks she might implode with the feel of it. The stubble on his cheeks tickles the insides of her thighs and it seems to heighten everything happening to her.

His thumb is pressed to her, tongue lapping. She gives shuddering moans and Fitz's name falls from her lips too many times to count and he hums his approval, which only makes her louder. "Fuck-- _fuck_ , Fitz, please--"

He rolls his thumb and she tumbles off the edge, muscles tightening, head falling back against the pillows. She doesn't seem to remember how to breathe properly, so it's heavy inhales and exhales, her insides fluttering.

It takes what feels like an eternity for her heart to stop racing and when it finally does, she looks down to see him licking his lips clean, looking like a smug cat. She swats at his shoulder, though the gesture is weak because she still can't see quite straight.

Fitz crawls back up to plant a kiss on her mouth before lying back down next to her, pulling her close to him with one arm. "A fitting celebration for our first place together, I think," he jokes, fingers tracing down her side.

She snuggles against him, still too warm and too sleepy from the effort. "I like the unshaven look, Fitz."

It's a victory for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, after 6 months this story is finished! I didn't really know where to take this, but Zoe (awkwardspiritanimals) requested something of this nature, so I thought it'd be a good way to end it.


End file.
